


At the Beginning of the End of the World

by Slutspeare



Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: but also it's depressing!, it's teatime!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 02:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20575151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slutspeare/pseuds/Slutspeare
Summary: After all is said and done, you go back for tea.





	At the Beginning of the End of the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wysoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wysoria/gifts).

> Hello all! 
> 
> This summer I worked with Pencils in the Margin, a non-profit group that connects creators to organizations dedicated to delivering aid to detainees and the victims of ICE raids and camps. This was a wonderful experience, and if you're a creator, you too can do your part to help out! Just go to http://pencilsinthemargin.co.uk/ to sign up to create, or see what rewards you can get for donating to the relief funds for detainees. It's a small thing, but everyone can do something to help out in this world, even if it's just writing a fic or making some art. 
> 
> This fic was requested by the wonderful Wysoria. I had a blast working with them on this project, and getting to dive into a new fandom! This was a fantastic experience for me, and I hope that I didn't do too badly with their request! :P
> 
> Please enjoy!

The old shopkeeper does not turn when you enter.

“I thought you’d be back,” Seam says, his voice crackling. “You didn’t seem like the type to stay away for long.”

You say nothing, simply standing in the center of the Seap. It looks slightly more run down than you remember it being. The displays of odd knickknacks and traveler’s provisions have dwindled down, running on empty.

“Not many people are stopping by, as of late,” Seam tells you. He doesn’t sound upset, just matter-of-fact. “Heroes are few and far between now. Of course, there isn’t much work for your lot, is there? Not since the Heroes of Light completed their quest.”

You must show something in your face, because Seam laughs. “Yes, yes, you’re a Hero, I know. But you aren’t _the_ Hero, are you? If you were, you wouldn’t be back here, with me.”

“I didn’t want to come back,” you say, voice shaky.

Seam fixes you with his one working eye, the button that holds residence on the other side of his face glinting strangely in the light of the Seap. “We’ve told you. It doesn’t matter what you want.”

“Then what’s the point?” you mutter under your breath.

If Seam hears he says nothing, simply gesturing behind you with a paw. “Would you like to take a seat? The tea is almost ready.”

“You knew I was coming?”

Seam grins, the stitches knit through his lips stretching to show teeth.

That seems to be all the answer you’re going to get for now, so you make your way over to the pair of ragged armchairs that sit near the shop’s lone window, looking out onto the Field. The indigo grass sways slightly in the thick air. It’s dry in the Seap, but you know that the atmosphere outside is hot and cloying, thick with liquid fire. The effects of the Fountain are still strong, even though it had been closed.

“Only one of them,” Seam says.

You start as he appears in front of you, carrying a tea tray with a kettle and two copper cups on it. He sets it down on the side table next to his chair. “Tea?”

You take the cup he hands you, holding it out as he pours. “What do you mean?”

Seam settles into his own chair, cupping his mug with a furry paw and raising it to his lips, taking a long drink before he speaks again. “Only one Fountain was closed. The one leading to the Lightners realm. It doesn’t mean things are fixed. Not by half.”

“But the Balance was restored,” you protest.

“That’s what the Prophecy says, that the balance would be restored once the Fountain was closed.”

“No,” Seam says, “The Prophecy says that the Heroes of Light must close the fountains, plural. Not to mention sealing the Angel’s Heaven away. There is quite a bit more work to be done, I’m afraid. It was only Step One that was completed, and it wasn’t a very hard step at that. You can’t call the Prophecy fulfilled if only one World has been saved.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You Heroes don’t ever listen to the Prophecies, you know,” Seam says, crooking a gnarled finger at you. “You get too caught up with the ‘world having been saved’ part and forget to do the saving.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Is it not?” Seam shrugs, taking another drink. “Well. I didn’t invite you here to talk about fairness.”

You take a sip of your own cup. The tea is hot and bitter, spiced with something you can’t name. It could use some milk, but it’s palatable.

The two of you sit in silence for a long while. Shadows begin to blanket the Field, which is interesting. There doesn’t seem to be a sun in the Dark World, just a constant source of light that you aren’t able to pinpoint.

Seam pours himself another cup of tea. You haven’t quite gotten used to the taste yet.

“The Field is beautiful,” he says, gazing out of the window. “The grass is a purple that I’ve never been able to get quite right.”

“Sorry?” you say.

“Magic is tricky with colors,” he explains. “Conjuring pulls a lot of your focus into the formation of an object, so it’s difficult to ever replicate any certain color entirely. That’s how you can tell if an object has been Conjured. Your mind can detect the color discrepancy, even if your eyes don’t know what you’re looking for.”

“Are things Conjured often?” you ask.

“Angel’s Heaven, no.” Seam laughs. “But then again, most magic around here is used for destruction, rather than creation. It’s something of a shame.”

“What do you use your magic for?”

Seam’s eye falls away from you, focusing back out the window. His voice is soft when he speaks. “I don’t use my magic. Not anymore.”

“But you were the Court Magician!” you exclaim. “Surely you have to be powerful enough to do some great things. The Dark World could use you.”

“Power has nothing to do with it,” Seam says, a bitter edge to his voice. “Magic is not something to be toyed with, and I did my fair share of toying.”

“Is this about Jevil?” you ask gently.

Something that sounds like a yowl echoes from Seam’s throat, though his mouth doesn’t move to produce the sound. “The only thing I could have done was lock him away. But it’s not the thing I should have done.”

You trace your fingers around the rim of your cup. “I don’t understand the difference.”

Seam sighs, but he doesn’t sound angry. “Jevil was… corrupted. He wasn’t the same. He became a danger to others, and to himself. There was really no choice. He would have become too powerful if I had not sealed him into his cell. He was the only one who could match me in power, even then. I shudder to think what would happen if I hadn’t done something.”

“But you said you shouldn’t have.”

“And I stand by that.” Seam’s one eye is fixed on something you can’t make out. “For all his faults and dangers, Jevil was… we were close. And I betrayed him. It’s something that I cannot take back. I should have stood by him, found some way to help him. And if there was none, then at the very least, I shouldn’t have been the one to lock him away.” He scoffs. “Though, at the end, Jevil was nearly entirely mad. I’m not even sure he recognized what I was doing to him. Still.” His tone drops. “It’s something that I will always regret.”

“I’m sorry.” You’re not sure what else to say.

Seam closes his eye as he sips. “What’s past is done. There is no need to dwell on it.”

The silence is no longer comfortable. You sip your tea, the noise echoing on your lips. It might be obnoxious, but it’s better than keeping still and silent. Seam doesn’t seem to mind, regardless. His eye remains closed, and you almost would think he was asleep, if his breathing weren’t so precisely attuned to the space between your heartbeats.

Finally, you cannot stay silent any longer. “What about the end of the world?” you ask.

The eye opens slowly, but fixes you to your seat. “What about it?”

“Well,” you begin, trepidatiously, “The world is going to end, isn’t it? Unless we do something? What are we supposed to do? How can you just sit here in your shop while the Dark World crumbles around you?”

“You act as if the world is supposed to be saved.”

“Of course it’s supposed to be saved!” You burst out of your chair. The cup goes flying, its dregs spattering the carpet. “Why else would there be Heroes?!”

Seam’s face stretches, cracking, pulling apart at the edges. “You’re not looking to save the world, are you?”

The fight drains from your shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“You could care less about this world.” Seam’s voice is grating, but he sound satisfied, as if something he’s been puzzling over has fallen into place. As if you’ve given the correct answer. “You want a _purpose_.”

“Of course,” you say, “Who doesn’t?”

“You’re right, I suppose,” Seam acquiesces, but there’s something in his voice that makes you uneasy. You don’t want to trust this sudden kindness. “We all want purpose in our lives. But you’re willing to sacrifice a whole world to find yours.”

“No, I’m not,” you protest. “I’m trying to _save_ this world. I’m trying to help you.”

“You think you’re helping?” Seam’s eye flashes with something old and impossibly powerful, and you think you can see his fur becoming unmatted and the scars peeling from his face and the age melting away, his form lithe and dangerous in the light of the fire outside the window. “Did you think you were helping when you dragged the others from their lives into yours? Did you think you were helping when you turned the kingdom against their rulers? Did you think you were helping when you set Jevil free?”

The last remark stops you in your tracks. “… Is this about Jevil?”

“It’s about everything!” Seam howls. “Time cannot be rewritten according to your will. Who do you think you are, to mess with fate like this?”

“Wasn’t it fate that brought me here?” you demand, suddenly angry.

Seam scoffs. “Fate is a fool’s errand.” 

"Well, even if it was fate,” you say, “It was still my choices that made this happen.”

“Your choices?” The rage leaks out of Seam as quickly as it came in a wheezing laugh. “Child, your choices matter as much as anyone else’s.”

“So…?”

“So not at all,” Seam says, an incisor glinting between his lips. “I would have thought you’d figured that out by now.”

“What about your choices?” Seam may no longer be angry, but you still are.

For the first time, the old shopkeeper looks startled. “Excuse me?”

“Your choices,” you repeat, your hands waving in the air as your words ramp up into your speech. “You talk about the end of the world and Jevil and everything as if you could have stopped it. As if you could have done better. Why do your choices get to matter, but the rest of us are forced to live in complacency?”

Seam seems to sink in on himself, shoulders caving into his ribs. “I don’t…”

“If no one has a choice in any of this, if choices don’t even matter, then why are you putting blame on yourself? What makes you so important? If I’m not a Hero, then you aren’t either!”

It occurs to you that you’re shouting.

“I never said I was a Hero,” Seam says softly.

“You didn’t have to,” you tell him, “I already knew.”

There’s a thick silence for a moment, before Seam breaks it with a chuckle. “You are smarter than I gave you credit for.”

“Thank you.” You’re still tentative. The Seam that appeared only minutes earlier is not one you want to face again.

Seam folds his paws into his lap. “You’re right, I suppose. I’ve been so busy trying to get other Heroes to give it up than it never dawned on me that, deep down, I hadn’t.”

“So there’s still hope?” you ask.

Seam laughs, loud and full-bellied. Again, it’s more of a yowl than anything resembling human laughter. “There hasn’t been hope here for a long while, child.”

“You’ve been wrong before,” you say.

“I have,” Seam admits, and that’s more than you expected, “But I’m not wrong about this.”

“So the world is going to end,” you say, “And there’s nothing to do about it.”

“Not nothing,” Seam says, “Never nothing. You can’t save everyone and everything, Hero.”

“But then I’ve saved nothing,” you say, “I was brought here to save this place, but I can’t even do that.”

“It was never about saving the Dark World,” Seam says. His eye closes, and there is a hint of resignation in his posture. “We were doomed from the start. You merely helped it along. No, your destiny is something much bigger.”

“I’m not a very good Hero, am I?” you ask, your voice small. Your knees are weak, and you sink down into the armchair again.

“On the contrary.” Seam’s smile inches across his face, ever so slowly. “A good Hero does what is right, even when the end result is not what they hoped for. They find injustice and people who need help, and they help them, even if it does not matter in the grand scheme of things. A Hero is not someone who saves everyone; they are someone who saves themselves through helping others. And you’ve done just that. No matter what happens, you did what was right. Even though the world is ending, we’ll remember you for that.”

That seems to be all the finality that you’re going to get, and even though it doesn’t satisfy, something has settled inside your stomach that makes you feel grounded and less likely to splinter apart when your heart beats against your ribs.

“Thank you for the tea.” Your voice is not as thready as it once was, as if a golden ball of light has opened up in your throat.

“My pleasure,” Seam says.

You stand, gathering your things, and going to the door of the Seap. You rest your hand on the flap of the front entrance before you look back.

“Do you really think it’s going to happen?” you ask, your voice carrying quietly along the shelves. “Do you really believe the world is going to end?”

“Oh no.” Seam’s eye remains closed, and the smile on his face is contented, as if he’s about to slip into a lovely dream. “I believe it’s already started.”

**Author's Note:**

> Visit http://pencilsinthemargin.co.uk/ for more information on the project!


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